


Try Me On For Size

by fandomfluffandfuck



Series: Show Me The Ropes [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (Well He Would Be The Top If-), (kinda), (near / at the end), Anal Fingering, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Come Eating, Come Shot, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Dry Humping, Exaggerated Use Of The Word Pretty, Exhibitionism, Feminization, Grinding, Implied Bottom Bucky, Implied Sub Space, Lace Panties, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Panties, Sub Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, jerking off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24903022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfluffandfuck/pseuds/fandomfluffandfuck
Summary: Bucky recieves the panties he ordered from online... he likes them a lot, lot more than he realized he would.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Show Me The Ropes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797610
Comments: 17
Kudos: 224





	1. Safe Side

Bucky wakes up the next morning not entirely dreading his coming day. Normally he doesn’t dread his days but with Steve’s mission extended another day (meaning he won’t be arriving home tonight but tomorrow) he knows he would not be having a great, or even, good day if he hadn’t done what he did yesterday evening. 

Yesterday night Bucky had lurked about on the internet with the mission of discovering more about panties- men’s panties specifically. 

Once he had found a site that wasn’t making his insides feel empty and simultaneously too full with nausea because of the perfect bodies he was seeing he had got himself off not just once or even twice to the new idea of letting himself wear these fancy underthings but three times. He had come three times by himself because he was so into this possibility. 

The seemingly impending doom of ‘what if this isn’t as good as I think it will be in my mind’ hadn’t stopped him from orgasming the third time. The third time had been an accident, he had decided after the first that he needed to actually experience this but he hadn’t ordered them until a while after the second release of the night. 

He had ordered two “safe options”. They had the same “cut” to them which was the same as what Bucky wears day to day, regular mid to upper thigh boxer briefs. These just were made of sheer lace rather than, like, cotton. Lace that had pretty roses and leaves dotting them. The first pair of these was that soft light blue (not the harsh blue of his eyes) and the second were a navy blue that still remained warm in color somehow. 

The third pair weren’t, uhm, safe. 

The third pair were one’s that Bucky accidentally clicked on but once he had… he couldn’t click off of them. The look of them had his dick aching and his jaw slackening. 

They weren’t a fun, warm color. They were pure black. All lace the way the first two pairs he had put in his cart were but these were shorter, if they others would come down to an inch or so above his mid thigh these would barely come down over his ass. They were dangerously close to the almost nothing-there fit of Natasha’s. Not to mention the dizzying cut out on the back.His hand had had to grip his cock in a punishing way to not come all over his laptop when he read why they had such a cut out. 

Easy. Access.

Bucky pushed the laptop just far enough away to not get it covered in jizz before he was almost deliriously jerking off. His teeth ached at that phrase “easy access”. God. Like, like you were meant to just be something to be toyed with. To gawk at and admire. To be put on display. To be something pretty. 

Bucky had come embarrassingly fast. 

Now Bucky is rushing through the tower embarrassingly fast, he’d felt jittery all morning. Hoping that the overnight shipping was true in that his items would arrive anywhere from eight am to three pm. He had been disappointed to find that they didn’t arrive before he had to meet with his therapist but on the walk over he figured it was a good thing. He didn’t want to have an erection at any time in public but especially not while he zoned out while his therapist droned on. That would result in some awkward assumptions. 

Plus he told Steve he would tell someone he didn’t feel like he fully owned his body but that the asset did. He didn’t need the distraction. 

However- when he was three minutes from the tower he had gotten a notification from the shipping company. Your order has been delivered. Now he has a distraction. Now he’s speed walking through halls and hoping his resting face has remained scary enough with this distraction that no one will try to interact with him. He wants to get to his delivery. He wants to test his new curiosity f̶a̶n̶t̶a̶s̶y̶ while there’s no other distractions. 

He already feels like he’s sneaking around and he doesn’t want to waste time and end up actually having to do that. 

Bucky is fairly certain there’s not many times when he’s grabbed something so aggressively that’s not been Steve when he’s about to do something stupid. He grabs the box like it’s Steve in nineteen forty and he’s spotted some dickhead three times his size doing something dickheaded. He cradles the box to his heaving chest and collapses on the couch with it still in his clutch.

He calls out to JARVIS to make sure no one interrupts him and includes the caveat of warning him if Steve is on his way up (even though he’s not due back until tomorrow night) because the guy has always been exempt in the past. He doesn’t want JARVIS to keep him out, just for a fair forewarning. 

Bucky thinks of the conversation he had with Natasha yesterday. He decides he’s gonna open this on the couch and examine them here like he had done with her things. Bucky shakes his head at himself when he uses a fraction of his strength to open the box instead of using scissors or a knife or something. God, he’s like a kid on christmas morning. A very, very old kid. 

His lips drop from a pleased grin to a perfectly gaped “o” shape. 

The light blue ones are on top, thankfully. In that moment he might have internally combusted if he’d been forced to touch the black ones first. His uncontrollably trembling fingers graze over them. His moan echoes through the living room and he’s moving before his own conscience can process what his primal instincts are telling him. 

With his flesh and fisted in the decadent fabric he plows his way through the space to get to the master bedroom. He’s grabbed all three pairs in his haste, leaving the box to it’s lonesome in the living room. He isn’t sure for a moment he’ll be able to put any of the pairs down to try and put one of them on, he might just have to stare at them for a while. 

Bucky’s knees are a breadth away from collapsing by the time he’s stood in front of the closet door full length (and height) mirror in the bedroom he shares with Steve. Vaguely he wishes he’d gone to the other room, the one that was just his for a while, for a glimpse of privacy- which is stupid because he’s entirely alone. But he’s decided he needs this mirror for this. 

Bucky, for once, wants to see what his body will look like. What he’ll look like.

His clothes seem to fall off of his without brushing his skin, they fall to the floor with similar ease too. There’s no sound but his own cut off choking noises and his own pulse in his ears. Bucky finds himself naked in no time. 

He winces at his reflection that his eyes are immediately drawn to- self critical. 

Bucky breathes, in and out, for maybe a minute before he manages to look away. 

His clothes have found themselves in a pile to his left (the same side as his metal arm he realizes later) while the panties pool gloriously to his right (the side of flesh and blood). His human hand finds the pair of light blue lace boxers.

He steps away from the mirror just long enough to slip them up his legs and into place. 

Bucky, now clad only in a soft pair of panties, turns. The man in the mirror gapes at him. Bucky gasps back at himself. All of his blood rushes in tsunami’s to his dick and balls, he rocks back a little. Suddenly he’s so hard he’s lightheaded. As his vision clears he can’t draw his eyes anywhere but his own reflection. His twin in the mirror is him. 

He looks, well, he looks good. Soft. Right. The underwear hugs the swing of his hips, gentling them. They highlight his ass, Bucky blushes with understanding at the new-age saying of “peach of an ass”. The fabric tents obscenely around his already painful erection, wrapping him in soft blue that makes his eyes look softer too. They don’t look cold or harsh when he’s wearing this color… 

He faces himself head on. He smiles at himself. He doesn’t see the winter soldier, the asset, or the fist of hydra. He looks good, he likes this. 

“I like this” he proclaims aloud, breathless and proud. 

Just like the first night his hand reaches for his cock as if maginized. When it comes into contact with his dick that’s now covered in gauzy lace he whimpers, loudly, and is knocked to his knees hard. Bucky lands with a thunk but he can barely feel it- he just reaches out to steady himself with his metal arm and continues caressing himself. 

He, faintly, regesters the sounds he’s making at the sensation of lace rubbing over the sensitive, hot, wet skin of his cock. Little “oh”s and “ahH”s are spilling out of his lax mouth more often than he can take in breaths. He can’t help but whine out Steve’s name when he has the half-second of focus to make his mouth do something other than rest fully open. 

His hips follow his hand, bucking into the cup of his palm. Trying to get harder friction- to get more of the mind melting sensation, more, more, more. 

He gasps and whimpers and grinds his way to the razor edge of ecstasy. His palm is embarrassingly slick from his leaking cock as are the panties. He’s probably ruined them already, he whines at the idea of it. Then moans when he rationalizes it as an excuse to buy himself more things like this. 

His eyes restlessly dart between his hand where it’s squeezing his throbbing erection and his reflection. Once accidentally he catches a clear view of his own face and -holy fuck -if he looks anything near this wrecked when he’s with Steve he might have to reconsider his belief in the dirty compliments he loves to give. 

His eyes are heavy lidded and hazy, barely blue at all anymore. And his mouth is wide open, his jaw nearly scraping the floor, his lips are painted glossily with saliva. He looks so messy. So desperate. So wrecked.

He swallows a wail. He looks pretty.

He hysterically grinds forward into his own hand again and again and again. His breath hitches on sobs and moans, he focuses on his hand on his cock once more, panting and wailing when he has enough air to do so. He realizes he’s chanting his thoughts aloud. Telling himself, in the rawest version of his voice that he’s ever heard, that he’s pretty. He’s pretty. He feels pretty. He feels like he’s worth wearing something so pretty. Pretty. Soft. Steve. Steve. 

He can’t hold himself back after he thinks about how all those things would sound to Steve if he was here. If Steve was saying those things. 

He sobs when he cums. 

Literal tears fall down his heated cheeks while his cock paints his panties and his stomach and his thighs and even a bit of his chest. He might choke on his tongue. He might scream. He might explode. 

His toes curl and his legs cramp beneath Bucky while his world whites out from sheer pleasure. 

When his hands uncurl from his erection he whines at himself. He’s covered in his own release. He wasn’t wrong in thinking that he had ruined the panties he thinks, trying to breath less harshly. He knows (from LOTS of experience) that cum doesn’t come out of fabric.

Bucky pouts a little at the thought, he doesn’t want to ruin something so pretty. He feels like crying until he thinks about how much he knows Steve likes seeing the evidence of what they’ve done- what he’s done to Bucky. He still isn’t convinced that the panties will have the same effect on Steve as they did on himself but just knowing that the oncoming after wash stain would make Steve shiver in his metaphorical boots makes everything less overwhelming and upsetting. 

He notices that his cock had begun to swell again at the thought of Steve enjoying his dirtied panties when he begins to strip himself. He scrunches his nose at the noise it makes. Bucky deposits the garment in the washing machine, promising himself he’ll wash and dry them before Steve returns. 

He really does intend to go and shower when he enters the master bedroom again but he can’t make himself pick up the two remaining pairs of panties without trying one on. His dick twitches as he thanks himself for wiping all of the cum off of himself using the other panties and pulls on the less safe black pair. 

Oh-

Oh, these feel different. 

They’re still the same gauzy, delicate lace as the light blue ones but these are just so much, much dirtier. He somehow feels pretty and dirty and naughty and innocent all at once. It’s intoxicating. Dizzying. He breathes out sharply. The noise borders a whine. 

By the time his brain kicks in enough to remind him that he likes looking in the mirror when he’s this way he has turned enough (because he’s trying to at least make it to the bed this time) to catch an eyeful of the assless back of the underwear. Easy access. He outright moans at the image it makes. 

Suddenly his hole feels empty. He can feel all the air circulating around him, both from the sheer lace and from the Easy Access back. He clenches around nothing as his brain reminds him that the last time he got dicked down was five days ago. And, shit, usually he and Steve fuck at least once if not twice a day. Once every couple of days is not enough for someone with a super soldier libito. 

He squirms in place- dick and hole aching between his legs. Lace rubbing all the most deliciously sensitive skin. He just outright lets himself whine this time.

Jesus fucking Christ does he feel pretty. Pretty and dirty. His skin feels like it vibrates when his brain tells him he looks like a whore in Steve’s low growl of a voice that he gets when he’s aroused. 

He somehow ends up on the bed. Face down, mirroring the way he was right before he conducted his “research” last time, he breathes heavily into the sheets. Relishing in everything. The way his cock is encased in lace but his hole isn’t and the way the sheets slide over his overheated skin. Bucky moans softly. 

Trembling and helpless with arousal Bucky somehow manages to get his forearms and legs under him. When he settles a little he chokes on a breathy noise- feeling just how exposed he is like this. 

He’s on display. 

He moans into the sheets, the excess saliva in his mouth already beginning to pool. He’s on display. And he’s pretty. He’s worthy of looking like this. Being like this. Of being pretty enough to put on display. He likes himself like this so much he’s put himself on display. Willingly. 

His metal arm, clinking with the constant re-calibrations from the muddled signals of his mind, finds the lube that’s always pushed up on the bed and basically kept under Steve’s pillow. He sighs when he gets it open, finally. He coats his metal fingers. He aches to pretend it’s not himself doing this and the dampened sensation (he vaguely can register heat and cold with it on good days) of his metal hand will do that.

Bucky wants to imagine it as Steve. Drooling over how pretty Bucky can be. He wants to be pretty for Steve. For himself. 

Without regard for the lack of fucking he’s experienced within the past five days he pushes one of his fingers into himself all the way down to the hilt. He moans, gutted, at the feeling. A little sting that melts down into pure pleasure. The feeling burns through him before pooling in his swollen cock and balls. He feels himself pulsate against the enticing fabric- it pulls a little choked sob from him.

He stuffs another finger into himself, hotly panting at the way the sloppily applied lube drips down his penerium and balls. The viscous liquid catches on the lace of his panties, his hips buck forward uncontrollably, wanting the gorgeous feeling of lace rubbing over his cock. He wails when he scissors his fingers, thinking about all the evil things Steve would be doing to him right now. 

Or, or maybe he wouldn’t do any of that. Maybe Steve would be so eager to get inside him when Bucky’s on display the way he is that he would just open him as fast as possible. Not pulling out any fancy stops or anything- just getting him ready for that massive fucking cock. 

Bucky’s legs collapse under him when he manages to situate a third finger inside himself. He moans impressively loudly when his cock, still encased in his panties, hits the mattress. His brain turns off for almost an entire minute, trying to decide if he wants to grind forward into the mattress to feel more of that or if he wants to feel the thick stretch of his fingers and the too good to be true lightning like pleasure of hitting his prostate. 

Ultimately his body makes the decision for him.

He ends up making little twitches of movement that haphazardly switch between the sensations, he feels like a pinball. Like he’s hitting every sweet spot he did and didn’t know he had. His head is spinning and he’s not entirely sure he’s still upright. 

All Bucky knows is that his dick is leaking and ruining his panties and that his fingers are inside himself because he’s so desperate and his panties would give anyone easy access (especially right now when all anyone would have to do is take out his fingers and slide in- holy fuck) and he’s spread out on the bed on display and there’s so much excess lube around him it feels like his hole is leaking. 

He’s whining, he’s whimpering, and he might actually be screaming.

He has no idea. He’s got no idea if everything really does just always feel this good or if it’s the underwear doing all the work for him or if it’s not having gotten dicked down recently. He can’t be sure of anything so his head jumps from scenario to scenario and it’s leaving him reeling.

He knows he’s recklessly and uselessly babbling, begging. And he knows this is something he’s going to want to do all the time after this but it’s not until he feels himself release into his panties that he realizes he hasn’t been cumming continuously for the last- the last, last however the fuck long it’s been.

He knows he does scream that time.

It rings in his own ears while he clenches down around his fingers hard enough he’d be worried if it was his flesh and blood hand. Bucky drools into the sheets while he desperately holds onto his semblance of reality, trying to chase every little sensation. 

Eventually he stops moving, his muscles giving up on themselves against the onslaught of dirty thoughts and waves of aftershock from his orgasm.

Bucky floats in it for long enough that his cum goes tacky and cool against his stomach and thighs. He whines a little at the unpleasant stick feeling but drops his head fully into the mattress- he can’t resist the pull of sleep after his two brain melting orgasms.


	2. Dangerous Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky receives his newly ordered sets of lingerie and puts them to good use.

Bucky has two weeks of silent torture where he can't indulge himself with his new discovery. Well, it's not complete torture (not even close realistically), Steve is still damn good at knowing what Bucky needs and not stopping until he knows Bucky is pleased. Which had meant fucking him for three straight hours upon his arrival home. 

He appreciates that in Steve. He appreciates it more so than usual during the past two weeks because Steve's skill with dicking him down is a fantastic distraction from his newly discovered distraction. 

The one time he can curve his newfound hunger is when Steve goes to a press junket thing with Sam and Clint. 

Immediately after he had left that morning for the press event Bucky had raced to the corner of one of his drawers in their closet where he'd been storing his panties. Stained and clean alike. 

Just moving other items out of his way had Bucky going hot from his hairline down. By the time his metal fingertips had hit the blessedly delicate fabric he had shivered. He couldn't even feel it properly, he just knew anyway. He knew how good it was. He remembered how good they promised to be to him. 

Promptly sliding on the unworn pair, the ones that managed to be warm in color despite being navy blue and were fully lace and cut safely (a.k.a. close to being boxers), he breathed out. Deeper than he had in a little while. Don't get Bucky wrong he loves Steve, loves being with him and feels good when he's with him yet-

There's just something about wearing these. 

It doesn't compare to Steve, not really, it's just so different that it can't even begin to be looked at through the same view. Its neither better or worse, it's just different. Intoxicating. Thrilling. Delicious. All things that Steve can be too just… 

Something that makes the sight of himself agreeable, enjoyable even, without being out of his mind with pleasure for once. Speaking of that Bucky thought- he turns and walks out of the closet with a mission to find their indecently huge mirror. The journey is easy, he had become well acquainted with said mirror the night Bucky had first explored this distraction. 

Bucky had quickly ruined the last unstained pair of panties after he settled in front of his own reflection. 

Marveling in the newness of being able to stand himself and in the naughty yet innocent feeling he got. He'd rubbed himself through the panties like he was a bitch in heat. Desperate and loud. Chanting his hips forward into the real heat and pressure of his palm before putting them back into the imagined sensation of what Steve's erection would feel like rutting into him. He ached to replace the feeling of his boyfriend's cock with a toy but purely loathed the thought of moving. He began unconsciencely whimpering things aloud that he was hearing in his head in Steve's voice as compensation. The dirty praise and awed groans that Steve never had shied away from using. It always painted Bucky as red as his Ma's lipstick. 

This time he watched as the color dripped down from his cheeks to his belly. Then he'd nearly screamed while he bucked into his own palm, painting the panties white. 

Besides that fiasco Bucky hadn't indulged himself beyond the embarrassingly quick session in front of the mirror with his eyes locked on the way the panties wrapped up his lower half. However, that didn't mean Bucky hadn't been thinking about all the things he wanted to explore… sometimes was all he could think about. 

Like now, with Steve gone on a surprise mission to break a newly formed hydra cell with Natasha, Rodney, Thor and Tony, he had no other distractions so his brain had decided to focus on panties. 

Panties that he had discovered did still have company- just occasionally. Occasions that were planned to be sexy. They used to always have company other than a brassiere but, well, he knows Nat would call him old-fashioned but without things like garter belts and stockings and girdles women (and men) wearing them look… naked? 

More like exposed, he thinks. Yeah, exposed. 

He frowns at himself when he hears the voice of his therapist telling him that he shouldn't feel exposed. He shakes his head to clear the thoughts. He does not want to be thinking about his therapist right now. He scrolls down more, musing about how thinking that they feel exposed is hypocritical because of, of how he feels wearing just underwear. 

Bucky's thoughts drain immediately when he sees them. 

They're all black. Every part of the gorgeous ensemble. 

It's not safe, not like the previous pairs of panties he bought that he only called panties because of the fabric and the fact that the sight called them that. It's not safe because these certainly aren't something he could explain away to anyone as just being 'fancy boxers'. 

The first part of the outfit (if you could call it that) is the panties. True panties- in every sense of the word. They're just black, not even lace but still breath snatching. The cut of them hits perfectly on the arched line of where thigh meets the very bottom of the pelvis and travels up to connect to a single string, sitting over the middle of the model's prominent hip bone, that holds the back and front of the panties together. The strings on the both sides of the panties makes them extra tiny. Bucky's not even sure his dick would fit in them, not even if he was somehow flaccid while wearing them. 

Next are the stockings and matching garter belt. The stockings are black and sheer. Topped with a band of lace that looks just like the belt, it's a darker, more dense lace than the rest of the stockings. The stockings are connected to the belt via strings that are the same thickness as the ones on the sides of the panties. The belt- which is made of the same type of lace as the top band on the stockings -is also lined on top and bottom with the strings to keep it together presumably. The belt makes the model's waist look tiny. 

Bucky shivers. Wondering how nice he would look with a waist as tiny as Steve's. Would Steve grab him by the waist then? Throw him around a little? Tell him he's as curvy as a dame?

His face burns. He whines accidentally on an exhale. 

He's got it bad.

Bucky ends up with a mess on his hand and lap and two different tracking numbers for what the site calls 'lingerie sets'. He's not entirely sure the order in which those happened but he doesn't particularly care at the moment. He just has to make sure Steve doesn't pick up the package when it arrives. 

The other set on it's way is red, "wine red" as the site says. The stockings aren't lace, instead they're fishnets. And apparently the second set doesn't come with a garter belt because of said fishnets which will be able to hold themselves up, Bucky doesn't really care if they do or not. God knows he won't be wearing them for that long because of how hot they'll likely get him. He just wants to know what they feel like on his legs. That and how they'll make his legs look. If he'll be as pretty as the model is in the photos. 

The panties in the set are sheer but not lace. They have the same velvet band on the top as the fishnet stockings and Bucky had moaned just as the mere thought of how nice they'll feel. The front of them is cut with a little more fabric than the first set had but the back has virtually no fabric. Instead the back is just a bit thicker than the strings of the first pair and are apparently designed to be basically invisible so his whole ass will be perfectly displayed. Bucky's cock twitched and leaked immediately upon discovering that feature. 

He'll be so exposed but sort of covered and he feels like it'll be a great mix of confusing and hot. 

He can't wait until they get here. The fastest shipping they had was two day delivery and he feels like he might implode before they arrive. 

The lingerie sets arrive in the promised two day delivery window, it's still early in the morning when they're dropped off outside their door by some Stark Industries employee (Bucky desperately hopes the box is as discreet as the website promised) so Steve is still on his run. Bucky can't even wait. 

He rips the package open as delicately as he can which isn't very but both sets come out whole from the debacle so who fucking cares. Bucky can't tell if he's shivering or trembling or vibrating but it doesn't matter because he's in the second bathroom (just to be safe if Steve returns suddenly) and his clothes are somehow off his body and not that damaged. He stands, bare and exposed, for too long without being able to decide which pair he wants to put on. 

The back of his brain decides for him, screaming that he needs to see what a garter belt will make him look like. 

As he carefully, carefully slides the sheer black fabric of the stockings up his legs he can't hold in his whimper. Oh, fuck. Fuck. Oh Christ- why, why has he not worn these before? 

He's only got the bathroom mirror to show off how the stockings look on his legs so he only gets to really see himself from mid-thigh up but it does the trick anyway. 

Bucky's legs squeeze together, his balls hot and achy between his legs with the sudden surge of arousal wracking through his body. These were meant for someone who was meant to be on display. For someone who knows they look good and wants anyone else who sees them to know too. He gasps as he slides the garter belt up and over his throbbing cock. Bucky has to squeeze the base of his cock or face the consequences of cumming right then.

Once he's more, more- well, not about to shoot off at just the idea and first feeling of the fabric on him Bucky adjusts the belt. It sits perfectly on the slimmest part of his waist. It's so good. Better than he could have ever predicted. 

His vision goes a little fuzzy at his reflection. He's so hard it hurts. Every little millimeter of his skin is buzzing. 

He looks so… so pretty. So dirty. So attractive. 

Bucky's waist, with the addition of the garter belt, looks so tiny. It pulls all of his attention away from his cock- that's almost purple at this point -and towards the space between his hip bones and rib cage. 

He forces himself to pull on the last piece of his outfit before he ruins it. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. Shit. Holy mother of-

They're so tiny. They're, they're truly panties. The strings on the sides hug his hips perfectly like they were made for him. The only thing that's out of place, that Bucky can't decide if they ruin it or make it SO much better, is his cock. Leaking and throbbing, the tip peaks out of the waistband and tents the front obscenely. His balls are tucked close to his body as is his cock making Bucky feel like he's even more turned on. The heat of his torso mixed with the heat of his dick. 

This is it. He's gonna die here. He's gonna overheat and melt and internally combust. 

Bucky hears the front door open. 

He gasps. Whether it's from the onslaught of all the things he's fantasized about doing with Steve with the addition of his new clothing items rushing back to the forefront of his mind or just from the possibility of being caught he doesn't know. Doesn't think he ever will because then Steve is calling out his name. 

What should he do? His own eyes widen at his reflection as if re-realizing what he's wearing before he groans in the back of his throat. 

"In here," Bucky's tongue and lips betray him. The response is automatic, something he almost always says just because it's easy but now it sounds dirty. Like he's planned for this. Planned to show Steve how pretty he can be by jumping him when he's all sweaty and-

Bucky barely stifles a moan. 

Steve has just returned from his run, so he has to be all sweaty and, and- 

Oh god. 

Oh god. Bucky is going to do this. He's gonna walk out there into the room that used to be his but is now their guest room and he's going to show Steve what he's wearing. Something he's not even really wearing for Steve but for himself. 

"Buck?" Steve sounds amused and concerned, like he's not sure if it's fun or if he should be frightened by the fact that Bucky's kind of hiding in the guest bathroom. 

"Steve- was, was your run good?" 

Steve snorts lightly, "are you jerking off in the bathroom Buck, your voice only sounds like that when-"

Bucky bites the bullet. 

Swallowing against the newfound desert in his mouth and throat. His metal hand flicks the lock on the door handle and he pulls it towards himself. The door that had been separating them, shielding Bucky with privacy really, swings open. 

Steve's mouth drops open. His eyes grow wide and his pupils dilate. His hands that were smoothing back his sweat darkened hair drop to his sides before reaching slightly. Like he wants to touch Bucky but isn't sure he's allowed to or if he wants to because he doesn’t want to ruin the illusion. 

Then he fucking growls. 

Bucky knees collapse beneath him. 

But before Bucky can hit the ground without even making any semblance of attempt to catch himself or break his fall Steve is there. Shirtless and sweaty and strong as a fucking brick wall. Bucky inhales his boyfriend's smell, whining against the damp, fragrant skin of his shoulder. Large hands pull Bucky roughly into him, likely using more force than Steve means to but Bucky doesn't care. He can't not when the throbbing of his cock in his panties is taking all of his rational thoughts away. 

Steve shoves him roughly against the wall next to the door frame. Their lips meet in a sloppy, filthy kiss. Teeth knocking together before Steve nips at Bucky's lips and tongue like he can't help himself. 

As soon as Bucky can he's panting out short words that hopefully makes some version of a sentence. 

Steve roars against the skin of his jaw, biting lightly at the cleft of his chin. "Do I fucking like it? Huh, is that what you asked sweetheart?" 

Bucky whines, turning redder than before. He nods as much as he can while being pinned between his boyfriend's sweaty, hulking frame and the wall. 

Steve literally growls out his response, "yeah doll, yeah I fucking like it." Steve slides a finger between the sensitive thin skin between Bucky's hip bones and the lace that's barely covering any of him. He pulls at it. Letting it snap back against Bucky. He throws his head back at the bite of pain, gasping when the back of his head hits the drywall. Steve chuckles darkly, "yeah baby, look at you. You're so pretty-" 

Bucky can't help it. He cuts Steve off with a ragged moan that tears itself out of his throat without mercy. His hips tip forward to find Steve's. He nearly sobs when he feels how hot and hard he is through just his thin running shorts. 

Steve growls again. 

And, oh god, if Steve keeps doing that Bucky is gonna die. 

Steve pulls back a little from him, Bucky shamelessly and blindly follows him, whining. The younger man has to catch him again because of how out of it Bucky is. He finds himself hushing the brunette. 

"Wasn't going anywhere, jus' wanted to look at what's mine." He drawls out slowly, watching Bucky's face eagerly. His mouth drops open, eyes unfocusing for a moment before somehow darkening even more. 

Bucky doesn't even squeak like usual when Steve picks him up and hauls him over to the bed, he just moans at the show of strength. Steve reciprocates with his own hungry noise because of the feeling of the decadent fabric encasing Bucky's long, powerful legs. When Bucky lands on the bed he doesn't hesitate to reach out and pull Steve down on top of him. 

Just like when he's been alone with his pretty clothing he finds his mind slipping away. Bucky starts babbling out the words in his mind. Or at least he starts making sounds that sometimes sound like words, he isn't even sure if Steve can understand any of it but he doesn't fucking care. 

But he at least understands something of it, whether it's through the slurred sort of words or through the outfit Bucky's in or the actions he's taking- how desperate he is because Steve's pulling his stocking covered legs up around his waist. Bucky really does begin to sob as he crosses his ankles to hold on to him and Steve's dinner plate sized palms cup his ass, forcing his hips up against the hard plains of his abs. 

Bucky thrashes against him. 

Choking on versions of Steve's name and adjectives surrounding the word pretty it hits Bucky just how close he is. Steve continues to lift Bucky's hips into his body while he lowers himself fully over him. Growling about how fucking dirty he is for dressing up like this, pressing him inescapably into the mattress. 

Bucky's brain finally catches up to the words that are being whispered into his ear, "fuck doll, lookit you. So pretty with all this. All dressed up for me. Guh- all, all pretty for me yeah?" 

Bucky feels tears begin to drip down his face, he answers hysterically without thinking. " 'M sss' pretty. Pretty fr you. Want, want, want-" 

Steve stops his rhythm to just hold Bucky's smaller body against his rather than rocking him in a dirty grind. Bucky whines loud enough it hurts his throat, letting his head fall back. Steve's teeth latch onto the exposed surface of his neck, demanding against the skin "whaddya want baby? C'mon, tell me what you want when you're all pretty."

If it was just a few tears before Bucky's now full out crying because Steve's still not moving them. He claws weakly at Steve's biceps. 

"Wwwanna be pretty… hnnng, wanna be on, on-" All of Bucky's breath leaves his lungs because Steve shoves his hands under the fabric of the panties. His fingers map Bucky's ass, circles and tugging softly at his hole. Bucky whimpers, feeling either tears or drool pool around his lax useless mouth. 

Steve takes his hand away, slapping his ass as much as he can without taking his hands out of his panties, "tell me" he demands. 

"Wanna be on display, wanna be pretty, wanna be pretty for you. Wanna look pretty, be something pretty for you to- to." He stops, shutting his saliva coated lips with an audible click. He doesn't want to say the last part. The part that he's just figured out and might actually cum immediately upon voicing it aloud. He blushes all the way to his belly and feels his ears burn. Steve glares at him. Bucky whimpers, he knows what that means but he can't- he doesn't. There's no way he can say it. 

"What," Steve begins deviously, "what, you wanna be pretty for me? On display like a-" he smirks with merciless realization "like a plaything for me?" 

Bucky can't. 

He sobs against Steve, cumming almost entirely untouched. His cock jerking so hard with his release it's almost painful. 

Steve coaxes him through it. Whispering absolute filth about how pretty he is and how fun it'll be to dress Bucky up how he wants and do what ever he wants with him into his ears and fucking his tongue into his mouth when he's not hitting every button Bucky didn't know he had with his words. Just barely tilting Bucky's hips so he gets the worst (perfect) amount of friction. An absolute evil barely there type of stimulation that has his orgasm lasting for fucking years.

Bucky must have wailed or screamed through his orgasm because by the time he's done losing himself in the feeling his throat is on fire. 

His head hits the bedding below him with a soft thunk, he sighs croaking out "holy shit". Steve laughs breathlessly and bumps his nose softly against Bucky's cheeks. Seemingly just then realizing that Bucky had been crying and going to wipe the nearly dried tears away with his thumbs. 

Bucky let's his eyes slide shut and leans into the touch, slowly coming back to the real world. 

Lazily he blinks up at Steve when he realizes he isn't hard anymore, he's about to vocalize his confusion before realizing there's a lot more cum on him than he would've been able to make by himself. He looks down, cheeks flaming, and yeah sure enough his entire chest and stomach have been sprayed with Steve's cum. 

"Enjoy yourself?" Bucky tries for teasing but it comes out sounding a little rough because of the amount of noise he'd been making and too earnest because he really does want Steve to like this as much as he does. Steve gives him a look that says 'what do you think you idiot' but opens his mouth to tell him anyway. 

Steve takes his huge warm palms off of Bucky to get off of the bed rather than slump against him and hear and feel the wet squish of too much cum, thanks to the serum, between their chests. 

Bucky’s head lolls to the side and his metal arm grabs clumsily as the younger man’s wrist, “don’ go.” 

Steve raises his hand to his mouth, kissing it softly, “just going to the bathroom, gotta clean you up.” Bucky shakes his head whining softly. Steve steps a little closer back to the side of bed again, stroking his hair for a moment before making a cheap shot, “well sweetheart, I gotta clean you up because I know you don’t want your pretty clothes all dirty do you?” Bucky’s eyes widen and his breathing stutters as if he’s forgotten what he was wearing, he lets go. Nodding shyly. 

“Bucky, what-” Steve’s voice is dark again but entirely breathless. Bucky manages to somehow lift his head to locate his boyfriend and oh…

“Surprize?” He tries quietly. Steve drops the second set of lingerie and prowls back over. 

“Forget cleaning these up.” He snaps the garter belt this time, burning holes in Bucky’s eyes with his own hungry gaze, “I guess we gotta dirty them more so I can justify making you wear that other getup.” Bucky’s chest heaves, looking up at Steve who’s now caging him in with his huge body. One hand by his head, the other playing with his dirty panties. His massive thighs straddling Bucky’s. 

Tonight is going to be a long night. Bucky doesn’t mind so long as Steve keeps looking at him like that.


End file.
